


In the Dark

by yoshizora



Category: Xenoblade Chronicles 2
Genre: Blindfolds, F/F, Fingerfucking, Gags, PWP, brighid continues to top the fuck out of morag rip
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-20
Updated: 2018-01-20
Packaged: 2019-03-07 05:03:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,325
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13427361
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yoshizora/pseuds/yoshizora
Summary: They're never actually really in the dark, because of Brighid's flames, but a blindfold works just fine.





	In the Dark

**Author's Note:**

> it's 4 am rn i'll do edits and whatever tomorrow zzzzz
> 
> edit: ok i changed up some stuff

Sometimes, on extremely rare occasions, Mòrag says something not terribly clever that eventually returns to hit her right in the face with a fistful of karma.

Or approximately as much. It’s not a very elegant way of putting it, but her current situation (blindfolded, wrists tied above her head) doesn’t exactly call for flowery words. At least she more or less manages to keep her mouth pressed in an unimpressed line in spite of her quickening pulse.

“You do realize I could easily break free of these restraints,” Mòrag says. The headboard creaks when she gives her bound wrists a firm tug— that flimsy cloth definitely isn’t enough to hold her.

“Is that your way of asking for something sturdier?” Brighid’s voice comes from somewhere to her left. The blindfold is thick enough that Mòrag actually can’t see her illuminated silhouette, for once, and being unable to tell her exact position is somewhat unnerving.

“Only if it would give you peace of mind.”

“I trust that you won’t actually try to escape.”

She’s right. Mòrag’s just playing along— for the most part.

“Not if you remove the blindfold.”

Brighid firmly pats her cheek. “The blindfold stays. My apologies.”

“I wasn’t aware my words had offended you to such an extent.” Mòrag says, unable to resist the chance to tease. Again. Which is sort of what brought her to this in the first place. Blindfolded. Bound. Not even given the luxury of being completely stripped.

“The light from my flames never bothered you before!” Oh, good, Brighid actually does sound flustered.

“I had only said that it would perhaps be a refreshing change of pace to engage in the dark—“

“But you _like_ the visibility.”

“Hmm… well, I can’t deny that.”

“Hence, the blindfold.”

“Just to bother me?”

“Didn’t you just say you’d like to have sex in the dark, for once?”

Mòrag mumbles something under her breath as Brighid slowly traces her lips with a finger. She pulls at the restraints again (which she now just realizes is likely the tie from her uniform) and hears the blood pounding in her ears as the bed shifts beneath her. Brighid is surely kneeling beside her now, still touching Mòrag’s face and still doing nothing.

It’s about as frustrating as it is exciting. “You’re certainly taking your time with this, Brighid.”

“I don’t think you’re in any position to be making demands, Lady Mòrag.”

It’s about as exciting as it is frustrating. “Mmh. Then I promise I’ll be good and won’t use my hands. Would that suffice?”

No response. Up until now, Mòrag had been unable to decide if she actually liked the blindfold or not. She had been more than happy to let Brighid tie her wrists; Brighid usually takes the lead anyway, but the blindfold is new. Having one of her senses robbed wasn’t a particularly pleasant feeling at first. But Mòrag is sharp, and quick to adapt, and now she focuses on the sounds and sensations and even the smells around her as she tries to figure out what Brighid is doing.

Maybe she’s already warming up to it, is all. She steadies her own breath to carefully listen to Brighid’s breathing, noting it’s a bit quicker than usual.

The bed shifts again as Brighid leans down, and now Mòrag can feel her warm breath directly over her mouth. She automatically tries to crane her neck up for a kiss, but her lips only meet empty air instead of Brighid’s face. _Unfair._

“This is a great opportunity for you to learn how to beg properly.”

Mòrag exhales through her teeth. “I beg just fine, thank you.”

“Bargaining doesn’t count as begging.”

Something warm pushes against Mòrag’s lips and she automatically parts them to allow entrance. Ah, she knows that texture all too well. Brighid gently laughs and runs her fingers over Mòrag’s tongue, encouraging her to lick and suck at them, as her other hand reaches down to run down the front of her undershirt.

Mòrag hadn’t been expecting that, seeing as she’s unable to see at all. She tries to say something, but then Brighid pushes a third finger into her mouth, effectively shutting her up while she feigns pulling up Mòrag’s shirt.

“Oh… what a shame. I won’t be able to take this off for you, with your wrists like that.”

She groans something around Brighid’s fingers. A bit of drool is making its way down her chin, and Mòrag squirms rather unhappily and tries to turn her head. That she can’t _see_ is still the bigger problem, because she can’t anticipate anything at all and the lack of foresight is starting to bother her more than it should. She’s always been able to predict what Brighid would do; somehow, the simplicity of a blindfold makes it that much harder. Mòrag bites down. The fingers sizzle. Brighid yanks them away, and wipes them off on Mòrag’s shirt just to annoy her.

“I’d rather go to sleep if all you’ll be doing is teasing me throughout the night,” Mòrag drawls.

“You’ll only get teasing if you don’t behave yourself.”

“I can’t exactly beg if you’re stuffing your fingers into my mouth.”

“Don’t use words, then,” Brighid hisses into her ear, suddenly _there_ again. It’s as if that defiant bite was the singular tipping point— Mòrag gasps and nearly chokes when something soft is crammed between her teeth (a handkerchief? a _sock?_ ) and tied around the back of her head. Blindfolded and gagged. Great.

Things are happening too quickly for Mòrag to even consider the idea of protesting to the gag. A knee between her legs. Brighid _burning_ the taut fabric of her undershirt apart. Hands roughly groping at her body. A teasing laugh when she groans and chews at the gag, to no effect.

All she can think about is how she’s going to have to buy a new undershirt. Damnit.

“Oh, mighty Flamebringer, Special Inquisitor Lady Mòrag…” Brighid sings out, teasingly. As subtly as she can, Mòrag is trying to rub the back of her head against the pillow to dislodge the blindfold so she can at least _see_ the look on her face, but Brighid easily catches on and firmly holds her chin between two fingers.

A very familiar rush of excitement sends Mòrag’s blood pounding in a new rhythm when her head is forcefully held in place. The blindfold is doing its job way too well; she can’t even see the golden aura of their affinity link taking effect, much less Brighid’s flames. She really can’t do much but breathe and listen and pray that Brighid does… more.

She loudly moans against the gag and bucks her hips against Brighid’s knee, just to let her know that she still intends to fully cooperate. If she can get used to the blindfold, she can definitely get used to the gag.

Which is a thought that Mòrag never would have imagined she would be having, but whatever. Frankly, she’s already having a great time. Brighid’s playful cruelty always hits the right spots.

Although, speaking of the right spots.

Brighid digs her fingers into Mòrag’s sides just to make her jolt. Breathing hard, she shakily lowers herself to straddle Mòrag’s thigh and grinds down. Mòrag whines at that, squirming just to give her extra friction. “I may have to take back what I said, about your begging.”

The headboard creaks. Mòrag is clearly trying very, _very_ hard not to wrench her hands free. Even if she’d already wholeheartedly accepted the blindfold, she now sorely wishes it were gone, only if so she could watch Brighid as she grinds against her.

The feeling alone isn’t quite enough. Mòrag softly whines again, focusing on that burning hot slickness being smeared all over her thigh and the hands pressing down on her abs, Brighid steadying herself while she reverently feels those muscles at the same time. She _hears_ Brighid panting and moaning as she heavily grinds against Mòrag in a quick rhythm but only hearing and feeling isn’t enough.

She wants to watch her. Badly. She wants to see Brighid’s mouth slightly part open as she cums, and her jaw trembling, and the slight wrinkle between her eyebrows when she really gets into it, and her breasts obscenely bouncing with her movements, and the sheer bliss visibly shaking through her core. The gag is soaked through with drool and the heat between her own legs is becoming unbearable. But Mòrag does nothing but obediently lie there, squirming and listening and feeling as Brighid works herself up to her orgasm over what feels like an excruciating eternity.

Mòrag could just about cry from frustration when Brighid finishes and shakily climbs off, removing her leg from between hers.

“The look on your face…” Brighid laughs, panting as she lies beside her. Mòrag makes a rather irate sound and bucks her hips upwards, just to remind her. “Of course, of course.”

But instead, all she does is remove the gag. Which is nice of her, but Mòrag would have gladly kept it on. She sputters. “Brighid— would you _please—_ ”

“With or without fire, this time?”

“Whatever you want! _Please!_ ”

“Whatever I want.”

“Yes!”

She can’t even find reason to complain when she feels the gag being secured in her mouth again, because Brighid’s touching her immediately after it’s tied off— not where Mòrag would prefer, but her breasts are good enough. She can’t tell if Brighid’s doing something with the ether to make her feel even more sensitive than normal or if it’s just an effect of being blinded throughout the whole thing. The heat is only agitating her desperation, and Mòrag is dangerously close to losing focus and yanking her hands free. Overwhelmed but unable to act, she sobs through the gag.

“To think that the Special Inquisitor has this little self-control,” Brighid murmurs, gentling nibbling Mòrag’s ear as she massages more of that churning heat through her body. “You sound like an animal right now. How debasing. Have you no shame?”

To that, Mòrag only arches her back and makes unintelligible groaning noises as if she’s trying to encourage Brighid to berate her some more. Her desperation is searing more than Brighid’s flames.

“But you’re begging splendidly, Lady Mòrag.”

Praise is fine too, though.

She’s more than a bit lightheaded from all her strained panting when one of Brighid’s hands runs its way over her quivering abdomen, and beneath her soaked panties at last.

Not at all unexpectedly, the tie finally snaps loose away from the headboard. But before Mòrag can do anything with her new bit of freedom, Brighid snatches her wrists with one hand and pins them down while she slowly rubs at Mòrag’s slick folds.

“You did well, to last this long,” Brighid kisses the corner of her mouth while intentionally scorching her wrists. Mòrag loudly moans and writhes like she’d been set on fire (and she might as well have been). “I’d love to take the gag off to hear you crying out my name, but…”

The thought is never finished, because Brighid decides to push a finger inside Mòrag and she _chokes_ , freezing up for a moment before clumsily trying to move her hips against that one digit, toes curling. Brighid sits up a bit.

“Would you like another finger, Lady Mòrag?”

She eagerly nods.

“Hmm…”

“ _Nnnnmgh—!_ ” Mòrag whimpers, biting the gag so hard she really will probably tear through it at this rate.

Exquisite. Brighid settles back down, pushes a second digit in, and begins with a slow pumping rhythm while the heel of her thumb rubs against her clit. The sounds coming from the back of Mòrag’s throat truly are explicit, and only become worse (even better) as Brighid quickens the pace.

Mòrag doesn’t need her vision for this part, where Brighid fucks her relentlessly and sets her insides ablaze.

Blinding lights that aren’t flames or their affinity link flash behind her eyelids as Mòrag hits her climax, hard, all that sweet tension finally released at once. Mòrag arches her back, jaw clenched around the gag and her skin painfully blazing, the pounding of blood in her ears deafening as all her senses go haywire for a moment. Brighid lingers for a while before her fingers slide out, and she moves to finally remove the blindfold and gag.

It’s a bit astounding how exhausted she looks, considering her typical endurance and their shared ether. Mòrag lies there, limp and panting, her entire body feeling like it’s been completely done in, but she manages to fondly glare right at Brighid. She’s slightly squinting. The lights from Brighid’s flames are almost painful to look at after being blinded for that long.

“… I told you I beg just fine, didn’t I?”

That wasn’t really the original point of this entire thing, but Brighid just sighs with an equal amount of fondness and curls up against her side. Ah, well. If anything, all they got out of this was that Mòrag’s probably going to ask Brighid to blindfold and gag her often from now on.

“It could have been better.”

Mòrag looks so genuinely crestfallen; Brighid laughs. She showily licks her fingers off and kisses Mòrag’s shoulder. “I’m kidding. You’ve done well.”

“Are you still upset over what I said about your flames?”

“Oh, that? I was never actually upset,” Brighid yawns. “It was just a convenient excuse to blindfold you.”

She really should have seen that coming. But it still comes as no surprise. Mòrag closes her eyes and smiles, tiredly wrapping an arm around Brighid. “And the gag?”

“I ran out of excuses.”

“Since when did you ever need excuses, Brighid?”

“Hmm. Good point.”

They shift into a more comfortable position, loosely embracing each other. Brighid’s flames are still too bright, but Mòrag had become used to that a long time ago.

“Just give me the order, and I’ll do it.”

“Hah. Roger that, Lady Mòrag.”

It’s just the way things work.


End file.
